Mockingbird
by BluEyes
Summary: Rachel's and Chandler's futures are not quite as they had imagined them to be
1. Nov 2005 part III

**Mockingbird**

**Prologue: November 2005**

~.~

_My life has been wonderfully chaotic lately, which, sadly, does not leave me much time to write. But, I've been dying to write something rather angsty and dramatic lately, and though this is neither the Mondler nor Randler fic I had in mind and had started working on…it will have to do, because it's what I feel like writing. Hopefully I will find the rest of my muse that I've been missing lately and will be able to actually write those fics soon, ha._

_And, in truly me fashion, this is just the prologue, which will leave you wondering what the heck is going on, and I will spend the rest of the story answering those questions. Well, first you will be a bit more confused, but then I will answer those questions. Enjoy :)_

~.~

Rachel played with the stem of the wine glass in front of her, the glow from the television in the next room playing off of Chandler's face across the table from her in the dimly lit kitchen. She stared at the single drop of red wine left in the bottom of her glass, as if that held any of the answers to the question he had just asked her.

_What are you going to do?_

Simple question. Well, it should be a simple question. Straight-forward. To the point. Not like so many other subjects the two of them had danced around for months now.

What _was_ she going to do?

Rachel looked across his kitchen and into the living room, where Emma sat watching the same _Dora_ DVD she had been watching for weeks now, oblivious to the conversation between the two adults in the next room. Rachel focused on the back of her daughter's head which was bouncing slightly as she answered the questions Dora and Diego asked of her, singing along at appropriate parts.

God, what was she going to do?

"Rach?"

Rachel turned back to Chandler at the sound of his voice. Nodding slightly, she took her bottom lip between her teeth, still deep in thought, fighting the tears that stung the back of her eyes.

"That's a really good question," finally came her reply, choked out in barely a whisper. "That," she paused, speaking a bit louder this time, a bit firmer, as she pointed at him before standing up to take her empty glass over to the sink. "That, is a _really_ good question."

~.~

_Reviews are lovely, please and thanks :)_


	2. May 2005

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 1: May 2005**

~.~

_Um…sorry for long delays between chapters. Life is hectic lately. Being a grown up kinda sucks like that, ha! But, I do get to go on a business trip next month. I feel pretty important :) Score 1 for being a grown up!  
_

_Thank you so much for the reviews so far :) I do love writing me some mysterious prologues (you should see all of them I have saved on here that are a prologue without a story…it's a bit ridiculous)._

_The story title is like the title of Rob Thomas song…in case anyone cares. :)_

~.~

Rachel sat at the stop sign down the street from their house, hands planted firmly on the steering wheel, gripping it only slightly too tightly. From there, she could see their front yard. The swing they had tied to a tree for Emma, a football she assumed was Ben's from when he was there that weekend. A bike in the neighbor's driveway. Two little girls around Emma's age with pigtails playing a game of tag a few houses down. The only thing missing inside was her fiancé since he was at work, who, in all technicality, was a doctor (he did have a PhD). She really was living every dream she'd ever had (or at least 'ever' sans the last couple of years).

Glancing in the rearview mirror of her SUV, making sure no traffic was waiting on her, Emma's car seat caught her eye. She smiled for a moment at the thought of Emma: the best surprise ever to have happened to her.

Taking a deep breath, letting her lungs expand in a way only avid yoga-practicers are capable of, Rachel turned her attention back towards the street in front of her and let out a heavy sigh. She had just dropped Emma off at preschool (one they had fought to get her into—and who knew it could be such a feat to get a three-year-old into a good school), and though it was nice to have the house to herself for a few hours everyday, she also dreaded those few hours while she was home alone, with nothing but her own thoughts.

Though it had been a year since she got off the plane for Paris and turned around and came home to Ross, she had yet to find another job. They had moved to the suburbs shortly after, deciding, for some reason or another (it was lost on her now) that it was best for raising a family. Less than a month after that fateful day, they had gotten engaged, as well. Nothing spectacular and showy, like one would expect after a ten-year build up between them, but a simple, "Marry me," one night with a diamond ring while down on one knee, unable to wait any longer. Rachel had been surprisingly pleased with that, after all the show in their relationship for so long, it was nice to have something so simple and uncomplicated between them.

And their relationship had been fine at first, good even. Happy, something which they hadn't experienced for the majority of the past ten years.

But, the longer it was that they were in the suburbs, and the more time had passed with her unable to find a new job, the less happy she obviously was. She couldn't get her job back at Ralph Lauren, and she was having a hard time finding another job without a good reference from there, since she had gone back and forth on quitting or not so many times. And, whether or not it was true, she felt it looked flaky that she had accepted a job offer from Louis Viutton and had ended up not moving at not even the last minute, but the last second, for that job.

The Dream Job.

Maybe it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy, though: she didn't think she could find a job she wanted, so she hadn't found it yet. This may very well have been the case, too, especially since she had accomplished landing her dream job, and was therefore having a hard time settling for anything less than everything she wanted in a job.

And so, the more time went on, the more restless and resentful and full of regret she grew, her mind wandering to what could have been had she decided to go to Paris, a pang in her stomach telling her she was settling for less than she deserved, less than she had worked for in life.

She always pulled herself back to reality, though, before picking up Emma and having dinner ready by the time Ross got home (in her new-found spare time, she had even mastered the art of preparing simple meals without setting off the smoke detector). A few nights a week, though, Ross taught a night class, and those nights he wouldn't get home from The City in time for dinner, or even in time for Emma to go to bed. This was leaving their personal relationship at less than fulfilling for Rachel, as well, and left her wondering when, at any point in the past ten years, a relationship with Ross had actually been all that fulfilling.

And those nights alone would leave Rachel with more time to sit alone and wonder and regret.

Rachel jumped slightly, being brought back to the present moment by the sound of a car horn blasting behind her. She took a deep breath before driving forward, back to the house that she just couldn't make feel like a home.

A year ago, she never would have dreamt she would be here.

And, a few hours later, a few blocks away, Chandler sat alone in his house, feeling the exact same way, but about entirely different aspects of his life for entirely different reasons.


	3. July 2005

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 2: July 2005**

~.~

_Thanks for the reviews! I do imagine this is how Rachel's life would turn out…Chandler, on the other hand…well, this goes slightly AU with Mondler, because I imagine Mondler would turn out happy, and, well, they obviously aren't in this._

_Also, I have a Randler fic in the works that is slightly less serious than this one. Once I'm a bit happier with the first chapter, I'll start posting it. Just so ya know :)_

~.~

"How'd the interview go?" Chandler asked Rachel as she walked through the front door of his house, closing it behind her.

Rachel shrugged, tired of wasting her time with interview after interview for jobs she knew she had no intention of taking. "I am entirely overqualified and we both know it," she sighed, walking into the kitchen, where he was standing.

"How are _you_?" he then asked as Rachel set her purse down on the kitchen counter. Rachel paused momentarily, the sincerity behind the question cutting through her in a way she hadn't experienced in quite some time, the same way his soft voice cut through the otherwise silent house.

"Oh," Rachel attempted to bush off the question, nonchalantly blowing her bangs out of her face as she spoke. "You know."

"Yea," Chandler nodded, his tone not changing, knowing the exact restless, unhappy feeling she felt to her core at that moment. "I do know."

Rachel sighed at that as Emma came running into the room, glad for the sudden interruption. "Mommy!" the three-year-old exclaimed, bracing onto her mother's legs.

"Hey, Ems, have fun with Uncle Chandler?" Rachel asked, leaning down to pick up the little girl.

"Uh-huh," Emma nodded fiercely, giving her a kiss before squirming to get down. "We threwed food!"

"You what?" Rachel laughed, letting her wiggle her way down to the ground and over to Chandler.

"Emma, what did we say about that?" Chandler laughed, picking her up as she reached her arms up to him.

"That it's a secret!" she whispered loudly, and Chandler again laughed, the concept of a secret obviously lost on the three-year-old.

"Okay, but you _really_ can't tell Aunt Monica, okay?" he looked down at Emma. "Or else she's not gonna let you come hang out with me anymore."

"Kay!" Emma nodded fiercely, and Chandler kissed her forehead before setting her down, watching as she ran out of the room.

Rachel watched the two, her heart aching for Chandler. When he looked up, he caught her eye, attempting to force a smile.

"You deserve to be a dad." It slipped out. She had been thinking it, but not intending on saying it.

"Well, I think so," Chandler shrugged, attempting a joke, but his tone failing at that, voice quivering slightly.

Rachel looked down at the ground, not sure what to say, what to ask. Monica had shut her out for some time now, ever since they had lost the twins, ever since she had decided not to go to Paris, and it was killing her. She could only imagine if Monica was doing the same to Chandler. Because he lost the babies, too.

"Have you guys…talked about it?" Rachel finally offered softly, knowing he probably needed to talk about it, knowing how much he missed Joey since he moved to California, and that Ross had been around about as much as Monica had been lately.

Not that Ross was the best person to talk to without being judged, anyway.

Chandler shook his head slowly, staring down at the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath, blowing it out just as slowly, trying to hold back the tears that that question evoked. "No," he finally replied quietly. "Not for lack of trying on my part," he finally added, a slight bite to his words. "It's not like Monica's ever home to talk to. She's always working. Or driving to and from work. Just not…here…."

Rachel let out a sardonic laugh at that, only because she understood. "Tell me about it."

Chandler took a deep breath, not sure what else to say. He looked down at the ground, arms crossed, leaning heavily back against the counter. "We were making spaghetti."

"What?" Rachel looked at him, confused by the change in topic.

"Emma and I," he explained, looking up at her. "We were making spaghetti. And, I have no idea who told me it, but someone once told me that if you throw the noodles, and they stick, you know that they're done," he continued, and Rachel smiled at that. "She got a kick out of throwing the noodles against the wall to see if they were done."

Rachel smiled sincerely; he really did deserve to be a father.

"How are _you_?" she repeated his earlier question back to him.

His face fell even more, and it suddenly struck her how much older he looked than he had only a year earlier. The laugh lines around his eyes seemed to be more of worry lines, the lines in his forehead somehow deeper. He always used to be smiling, joking. Now, even if he wasn't happy, he didn't even attempt to make it appear that he was.

"Existing," he finally answered truthfully, and Rachel nodded in agreement.

"Me, too," she breathed out slowly. "Hey, um, do you want to come have dinner with me and Emma tomorrow? I mean, if we're both just existing right now, we'd might as well exist together…." She couldn't imagine having to be home by herself the majority of nights feeling this feeling like he was having to do, the few nights that Ross had class being bad enough.

Chandler nodded, offering a thankful smile. "That would be nice," he smiled sincerely, grateful for having someone so understanding at that moment. Someone who could understand the constricting, suffocating loneliness and emptiness found in simply existing.

Really, though, the truly heartbreaking thing about that to him was that he was having to feel that feeling with Monica, something he had never in his life imagined would happen.


	4. June 2005 part I

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 3: June 2005**

~.~

_Thanks so much for the reviews! You all rock :)_

_I'm going to try to update this one more time this coming week, since I'm going out of town next weekend (and running my second half marathon! I hope to run a full one by spring :)). We shall see, but I hope to have one more part posted by then. :)_

~.~

Chandler lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, too wrapped up in his thoughts to sleep. Sighing, he glanced at Monica's empty side of the bed, and then at the clock beside the bed. It was after midnight, and he knew very well he needed to be up in just over five hours in order to be get ready and make his commute into the city for work.

Most nights, wait, no, that was a lie, _some_ nights, he didn't mind being home alone. Some nights, when he was working on a big campaign and would work right up until the time he went to sleep, he didn't mind being home alone. Not that he liked it, but he didn't mind it as much. But nights, weeks, like this one, when there was no big campaign to work on, yet he still found himself home alone, he felt…stifled.

The quietness of the suburbs, of the empty house, was absolutely stifling. While the city, which he had grown accustomed to for over a decade, was always awake, always noisy, seemingly unaware that three o'clock in the morning was meant to be deafeningly silent, the suburbs knew that three in the morning was quiet time. And it was silent outside. No traffic. No yelling. No car alarms.

He missed Manhattan. Well, living in Manhattan, since he still worked there. He missed living there, close to everyone he loved, and close to at least a half a dozen Chinese places that would deliver after midnight.

Mostly, he missed living so close to everyone he loved. He missed Joey and Rachel being across the hall, and Ross across the street. He missed Phoebe being within walking distance. He missed Monica being there.

He missed Monica being there.

He missed their relationship, which, while far from perfect, had been good, and happy, and healthy, and had worked. He missed her. He missed them.

The day at the hospital, after the twins were born, had been what felt like the beginning of the end for them. It had been the happiest moment, the proudest moment of his life, when he got to hold them, ooh and aah over them, in complete disbelief over the two tiny bundles of people in his arms that were somehow his. Hers. Theirs.

And they had named them. God, they had even named them. Not officially, of course, not legally, but they had names picked out.

And then, from ecstatic to ten steps below morose in less than thirty seconds. They had left Erica alone with the babies, to say goodbye, and they had gone to make phone calls to friends and family. And then, their adoption lawyer came out.

Erica had changed her mind. Changed her mind. She didn't have to give a reason. She didn't want to see them. She just…changed her mind. Just like that. And nothing had been signed yet. Nothing was official.

The lawyer said that if they wanted to sue over any medical costs they had paid for, they could, but there was next to no chance of a judge giving them the babies, so there was no real reason to pursue it. You can't make someone give their kids up for adoption. Erica was young, but she wasn't some irresponsible drug addict who would be a danger to her children. And mothers change their minds all the time, apparently.

It hurt. Like nothing else he had ever experienced, worse than being told there was a good possibility of never having children of their own, it hurt. That feeling made every broken heart he had ever experienced feel like nothing but a slight pinprick.

And he cried. They cried.

And then they went home from the hospital the same way they had come there: with no baby.

And it hurt. It hurt moving into their new house without the baby they thought they would be moving in with. For days, for weeks, it hurt. And somewhere, in those weeks, Monica had shut everyone out. She had wanted to be a mother for so long, _so long_, and it was nothing but unfair that she couldn't have that, because she deserved it. She didin't deserve to not be able to have kids, she didn't deserve to have this happen….

He didn't deserve to have this happen. No one deserved this feeling.

And so, Monica shut out the world. Monica shut out Chandler. She wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't even begin to talk about trying again for adoption, or even still trying for the small chance of having one on their own. She threw herself into work, something that was not hard seeing as being a head chef called for long hours to begin with.

Weeks of shutting everyone out turned into months of bickering over nothing, and the bickering led to even more fighting over trivial things, until Chandler gave up and decided to let her shut him out completely, because just existing hurt a tiny bit less than all of the fighting had. Months eventually turned into a year, and still, nothing had changed. Nothing had gotten better. Monica was still shutting everyone out, but Chandler was refusing to let go of hope for them, even though hanging onto hope was killing him a bit more everyday.

But he loved her. He loved her and missed her and wanted His Monica back. Not this Monica, this shell of a person he no longer recognized.

And so, he would spend most nights alone. He would analyze every moment of the past year, and then have to bring himself out of that miserable state by remembering all of the good times for the years leading up to then. He would watch mind-numbing television shows, and order take-out from restaurants that failed to live up to Manhattan's take-our food.

Mostly, he would sit alone and hurt, and wonder when it was going to start getting better. Because it had to get better.

It had to get better.


	5. Sept 2005

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 4: September 2005**

~.~

_Thanks for the reviews so far! Yes, this is sad…I wish I could say it would get much, much better soon, but…I'm not going to make an empty promise. It's a sad story. However, have you ever known me to have a non-happy ending? Just sayin'…._

~.~

Rachel leaned closer to Chandler as he shifted his weight on the couch, trying not to wake the sleeping three-year-old on his lap. Rachel brushed her shoulder against his, and Chandler leaned into her as Rachel rested her head against his shoulder, both of them still staring at the cartoon on the screen, it having never crossed either of their minds that now that Emma was asleep, they could turn off _The Incredibles_ and watch something else. That would be acknowledging the moment, and this particular moment need not be acknowledged. They both needed to fill the current void in their life with some sort of affection, and if this, sitting too closely for a couple of hours once a week while watching a movie, was all they had, they were going to take it without acknowledgment.

After Chandler's first dinner with Rachel and Emma, an evening filled with what would have been slightly awkward silences between Chandler and Rachel had it not been for Emma needing to fill every silence in the way only a three-year-old is capable of, Emma had asked Uncle Chandler to stay and watch the movie Rachel had promised she would be able to watch if she was good all day. Chandler wasn't about to say no to his niece, who was most certainly his current favorite person in the world, and had stayed for the movie.

It became their Thursday night ritual. Dinner at Rachel's, followed by watching a movie that Emma would no doubt fall asleep during. Some weeks, Chandler would stay and they would talk after Rachel put Emma to bed. The would skirt around all that was wrong in their lives at the moment and focus on anything else they could: the antic's of one of Chandler's co-workers, a cute story about Emma from the day, how the girl at the coffee shop messed up Chandler's order so he ended up with three free coffees and was the most popular guy in the office for the morning, the girl in Rachel's yoga class who usually grated on her nerves but switched to a later class, any small success in what seemed to be the constant string of tribulations in their lives lately.

The other six nights of the week dragged on, but Thursday…Thursday night was theirs. Ross was home for roughly three of those other six nights, give or take, depending on the week, but Rachel had a feeling he was growing tired of her restlessness and was pulling away from her as much as she was pulling away from him. Both of them had worked and longed for this relationship far too long to just let it go, though, so neither acknowledged it out loud. And letting go of Ross completely would mean Rachel had given up Paris and everything it stood for for nothing, and she wasn't ready to admit that.

So, she didn't.

Monica, on the other hand, was never home. Maybe a night or two a week, but even when she was home, she wasn't really there, and her presence hurt Chandler a bit more than her absence.

But Thursday nights….

Thursday nights were an escape. An escape Chandler longed for, felt guilty for, loved and loathed all at once.


	6. June 2005 part II

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 5: June 2005**

~.~

Monica locked the door to the restaurant, having stayed nearly an hour later than she had even meant to that night. As she got into her car, she locked the doors behind her, turning the key in the ignition. Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, exhausted.

She hadn't meant to still be there in time to lock up. Every night, every week, every month, she stayed later and later and went in earlier and earlier. If she was at work, her mind was put to work, and she would become so engrossed in the week's menu or the night's specials or cooking or ordering or telling someone else what to do or whatever she was doing that she didn't have to think about the mess that was her life at the moment. And the more exhausted she was when she got home, the less energy she had to dwell on the mess that was her life.

Ha. Mess? That was putting it lightly. That was wrapping it all up in a neat little package with a bow and putting a colorful label on it.

Mess.

Shoes in the middle of the room were a mess. Dishes left in the sink might be considered a mess. Crumbs on the living room floor. Clothes that missed the hamper.

But, her life? Her relationship with Chandler? Her relationship with anyone for the past year? The feeling, eating away at her from the inside, that her one desire in life, that had been dangled teasingly in her face for over a year was then snatched back the moment she grabbed for it, a second after she had finally grasped it, realized it?

If she stopped, for one second, to think about how much her heart currently hurt, she was sure it would all but stop. So, she made sure that never happened. She didn't leave time for that to happen. She couldn't look at Chandler for fear of feeling his hurt. She couldn't look at herself in the mirror for fear of the hurting she would find in the reflection.

She had always wanted to be a mother. Always. For as long as she could remember. She was always nurturing someone, taking care of someone, promising to be everything to a child that her mother hadn't been for her and vowing never to be what her mother had been for her. And when she and Chandler decided they were ready to have a baby, she had just naively assumed that it would just happen, just like that. She wanted it badly enough, it just had to.

But, it didn't. It couldn't. It might never happen for them. And a small piece of her heart irreparably broke at that.

But then she had found it in herself to be able to be excited about the adoption, because it was still a baby they would have at the end, and that's what they really wanted. So, she swallowed the grief over not being able to have a baby of their own, and threw herself into the next best thing.

She had fallen in love with them. Jack and Erica. Perfect names for the two most perfect little beings she had ever seen. She had fallen irrevocably in love with them. The second she saw them, the second she held them, completely, selflessly, in love with them. And for a moment in time, all had been right in the world.

And when Erica changed her mind, when they had lost the babies, had the babies taken away, Monica's world had completely fallen apart.

Or so she had thought at the time.

But, no. No, that hadn't been a world in complete disarray. No. Her world now, well over a year later, still heart-broken, completely hopeless, and barely speaking to her husband because she had spent a year doing her best to push him away…. That day had been but the upper rung of a downward spiral of despair.

Now Monica's world _had_ completely fallen apart.

And she was too broken herself to even begin to pick up the pieces.


	7. Oct 2005 part I

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 6: October 2005**

~.~

It was bad.

The moment their lips met, they both knew it was wrong. Bad, horrible, and wrong. And, yet, it didn't feel _wrong_, per se, perhaps because nothing had felt right in well over a year for either of them. And so, they let it happen. They let their night of movie-watching cuddled up on the couch while Emma slept turn into a hugely forbidden kiss. Just a kiss. A barely parting of the mouth kiss. But, a kiss. A heart-racing, gut-wrenching kiss.

That night, when Rachel had leaned her head against Chandler's shoulder, and he had looked down at her, their eyes met, locked. His hand brushed her cheek; her hand found the back of his neck.

And they kissed.

It hadn't been premeditated, not on either of their parts. It was spontaneous and wonderful and horrible and about a thousand other adjectives they didn't want to let themselves think about including self-destructive.

And then Emma cried out in her sleep from upstairs, and they had broken apart frantically, knowing they had just crossed a horrible line they had been tip-toeing on their Thursday nights spent cuddled up on the couch watching movies, and afraid of what that meant they had just lost.

Their solace from life. They had just lost their current solace from life.

They had stared at one another for only a moment, Rachel biting her bottom lip before apologizing softly and running up to Emma's room, unable to get out of the room and away from the heavy air of the situation quickly enough.

Chandler was left alone, guilt consuming him every time his heart beat all too heavily in his chest. She was his wife's best friend. Problems in his marriage aside, he knew he still very much loved Monica, and Rachel was her best friend, or had been, up until the last hellish year and a half.

And Rachel. Ross was his best friend. And Monica's brother. And Rachel was his. Problems aside, or not putting problems aside, regardless, this was a terrible thing to have let happen.

Chandler closed his eyes; the situation left a terrible, unwavering taste in his mouth. He felt like he was going to cry. Or throw up. Maybe both.

Rachel took her time upstairs in Emma's room, rubbing the little girl's back as she watched her sleeping face, unshaken by whatever had woken her up moments before. She stood over Emma's bed for what felt like forever, cheeks still burning from embarrassment, heart heavy in her chest, unsure of what she was going to say when she went back downstairs. What was there to say?

By the time she went back down, though, she didn't have to worry about that.

Chandler was already gone.

~.~

_I've had a lot of steady traffic lately, but not-so-steady reviews. Reviews make me happy. Just sayin'. :)_


	8. Oct 2005 part II

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 7: October 2005**

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_Thanks so much for the reviews! I appreciate them very much. :)_

_I don't know if I've actually mentioned it yet, but I finally did formally get my promotion at work, and…I'm drowning a bit in life at the moment, so there's the reason for the sporadic updates—thanks for sticking with me._

~.~

Chandler sat in the dark, empty kitchen, playing with the empty water glass in front of him. He sat there for hours, replaying the events of the night. Well, replaying the events of the past year, but very much letting his conscience dwell on the events of that night with Rachel.

He had turned on only the hall light when he walked into the house, too consumed with guilt to face himself, so seeking solace in the solitude of the dark house. He'd given half a thought to getting drunk and drowning any sorrows that were left to drown, but had decided he would much prefer to sit there soberly and alone for however many hours it was before Monica would get home.

And in those hours, watching the hour on the clock turn to eleven, and then twelve, and now, nearly to one, he had made a decision. Because he knew a decision had to be made, an ultimatum had to be given. They had been barely existing, let alone barely co-existing, for far too long.

It had been far too long.

And one of them needed to do something, make a decision.

And he was going to do it.


	9. Oct 2005 part III

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 8: October 2005**

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_Two updates in two days? I know, right? ;)_

_Thanks for the kind reviews and congrats :) I'm gonna keep on truckin' and try to finish this one soon so I can concentrate on _Sometime Around Midnight_._

~.~

Monica walked slowly into their house, exhausted after another long day at work. She turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door, almost jumping when she noticed Chandler still sitting at the kitchen table.

He hadn't waited up for her in quite some time.

"Hey," she said softly, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter, moving closer to where he sat at the table.

"Hey," Chandler echoed back, looking up at her. She recognized the look in his eyes, the tired, jaded look in them, from every time she had looked in the mirror for months now. It was a look of surrender, a look that said more than any word said between them for nearly a year had said.

Yet, the next words out of his mouth were anything but what she had expected them to be.

"I love you," he continued softly, and at the softness still in his voice when he said those words to her, Monica found herself unable to continue to stand, her knees buckling as she sunk down into the chair beside him. "I love you," he repeated, "and I haven't given up on us, and I know you haven't, either, because if you had, you wouldn't be here. But," he took a deep breath, staring down at her hands on top of the table, her fingers nervously twisting her wedding band around her finger, "it's like we've been at a crossroads for quite some time now. We've been at this fork in the road, but instead of making a decision and going one way or another, we're just-we're just sitting here," he shrugged. "And just sitting here might be easier, and it might have been all that we could handle at first, but, Mon, I can't just sit here anymore. And I know you can't, either."

Monica took a deep breath, looked down at her lap, and nodded slowly in agreement.

"We need to do something, then."

Monica again nodded in agreement, closing her eyes tightly, but a single tear escaping anyway. God, she had known this was coming….

Chandler leaned closer, taking her by surprise by taking her hands. "I'm _not_ saying I want out. And I'm not giving you an out," he continued quietly, voice quivering slightly. "I just-I can't do this anymore. I can't _not_ do anything anymore."

Monica nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in her throat. "Me, neither."

"Then let's do something about it," Chandler continued, now close to tears as well. "Therapy. Or go steal a baby, or decide never to have one, but just…talk about it. Talk about something, anything," he continued, tears now streaming down Monica's face as she silently bit her bottom lip. "Because I'm not done with this marriage yet," Chandler continued, voice shaky, tears threatening, "and, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way," he finished, barely choking the last part out.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Monica all but jumped towards him, sitting on top of him, wrapping her arms around him, taking a few deep breaths as she continued to cry, trying to get some words, any words, to come out.

Chandler wrapped his arms around her, as well, burying his face in her shoulder as he tried to do something to stop the tears once they started, but every emotion from the past year seemed to be pouring out of him at once. And, at Monica's next words, he realized trying to stop the tears was beyond his control.

She choked out, through the mess of tears and entwined limbs and buried faces, "I love you, too."


	10. Nov 2005 part I

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 9: November 2005**

~.~

_Thanks so much for the reviews! They seriously make my day :)_

_Sorry updates are so short-I'm only doing one scene per chapter, and there is a method to my madness... We are nearing the end, though.  
_

~.~

Rachel frowned at her cell phone in her hands, having scrolled down to Chandler's cell number. She was calling his cell because she knew he was at work and was hoping for his voicemail, because his voicemail would be a bit easier to face than he would be. Only a bit, though.

But, she needed to face him, needed to talk to him, needed..._him_. She needed him in her life right now, and couldn't let one stupid kiss one stupid night ruin that. It was just one stupid kiss, and they had known each other far too long to let it come between them.

Oh, but there were circumstances. He was married to her best friend, and she was engaged to his. But…

But, if you took away those circumstances, and looked at the whole big picture of the whole past eighteen months, it was just one stupid kiss one stupid night that needed to be swept under the rug and looked over. Because there were so many reasons she needed him in her life right now for it not to be. So many more reasons with so much more merit than whatever had been behind the kiss.

"Hey."

She didn't remember hitting send and holding the phone up to her ear, but she must have at some point in time, because Chandler's soft voice greeted her seconds later.

"Hey," Rachel choked out in reply. And then silence. What did she call him to say? To apologize? To talk? To-

"Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?" Chandler asked softly, and Rachel could tell from his tone that all had been dropped. He had no intention of speaking about it, and was in no way looking for an apology from her. They were both sorry, and they both knew it. Stupid and sorry. Very stupid and very sorry. Nothing else needed to be said.

Rachel took a deep, shaky breath, nodding her head though he couldn't see her through the phone, like a small child does when you ask them a question over the phone. Dinner tomorrow was the last thing she had expected, but may have been the one thing she needed the most.

"Yes," she finally replied, quietly, almost whispered, "dinner tomorrow night would be great."


	11. Nov 2005 part II

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 10: November 2005**

~.~

_This past weekend, my three best friends since forever and I picked a dot on the map approximately the same distance from all of us, made a hotel reservation, and drove there. It was a much needed good weekend and break from life. Just thought I'd share…._

_Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! You guys are truly the reason I continue to post here. I would always write, but it's hard for me to find the motivation to write here without the feedback :)_

~.~

Chandler and Rachel sat at the kitchen table, dirty plates still on the table, glasses of wine half gone, and Emma now in the other room, long after they were done eating. Dinner had been rather silent, other than Emma and the responses the two adults gave to her, barely more than two words said between Chandler and Rachel.

But now, talking seemed eminent. Why else would they have had dinner? Why else would he have asked, and why else would she have said yes? Rachel was lost as to what to say, though, too embarrassed still from the events of the last dinner between them.

"I talked to Monica," Chandler finally said, and Rachel looked up curiously to meet his gaze from across the table, though she didn't ask out loud any of the questions which she was thinking. "I, um, I told her that…I told her that I still love her, and I know she still loves me, and I can't just sit here doing nothing and watch us fall apart any longer."

Rachel let him pause, waiting a moment before breaking the silence. "And…?"

Chandler smiled slightly, "And the next morning she called and made an appointment for us with a marriage counselor."

"Oh my god, Chandler, that's great," Rachel smiled, and Chandler nodded. "I mean, I feel like that shouldn't be the right response to that statement, but, given the circumstances…."

"Yea, no, it is good. It's a step in the right direction," he nodded. "It's a step in _any_ direction."

Rachel nodded along, biting her bottom lip. "Good," she whispered, though now nearly in tears. "Good."

Chandler looked at her hesitantly. "That 'good' doesn't sound so good…."

Rachel laughed, a genuine laugh through her tears, frustrated with herself. "No, it is good for you, it's just," she took a deep breath before taking a drink of her wine as she gathered her thoughts. "It's just," she began again, "my entire life is falling apart right now, and…I'm just sitting here, doing nothing," she shrugged, wiping at her eyes.

"Rach-"

"And I just," Rachel cut him off, not wanting anyone's sympathy or empathy or compassion, "I just…I'm _miserable_. I've been miserable for quite some time now. And I don't want to resent Ross for it, for being the reason I stayed here and gave up my dream, gave up everything that I have worked for, but," Rachel shook her head. "I do. I resent him for it. And I know that he is avoiding being around me as much as I'm avoiding being around him, because," Rachel looked down, trying to stop the flow of tears that seemed to automatically begin as she was about to say out loud what she had been thinking for quite some time. "He's avoiding being around me as much as I am around him because," she began again, "he feels the same way. He knows it was a mistake. He and I are _always_ a mistake. Well, almost always," she added as an afterthought, her daughter in the next room proof of an exception to that rule. "And we just, we _never_ work. No matter how hard we try, we can just never make it work. And I gave up so much to stay here and be with him, and," Rachel took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep the sobs she felt deep in her chest at bay, "I'm miserable," she finished in a whisper, staring down at the table in front of her. "And we both know it."

Chandler stared at her across the table for a few moments, letting her gather her emotions a bit more before he spoke. "What are you going to do?" he finally asked softly, knowing it was the one question she didn't want to answer but one that direly needed to be asked.

Rachel played with the stem of the wine glass in front of her, the glow from the television in the next room playing off of Chandler's face across the table from her in the dimly lit kitchen. She stared at the single drop of red wine left in the bottom of her glass, as if that held any of the answers to the question he had just asked her.

_What are you going to do?_

Simple question. Well, it should be a simple question. Straight-forward. To the point. Not like so many other subjects the two of them had danced around for months now.

What _was_ she going to do?

Rachel looked across the kitchen and into the living room, where Emma sat watching the same _Dora_ DVD she had been watching for weeks now, oblivious to the conversation between the two adults in the next room. Rachel focused on the back of her daughter's head which was bouncing slightly as she answered the questions Dora and Diego asked of her, singing along at appropriate parts.

God, what was she going to do?

"Rach?"

Rachel turned back to Chandler at the sound of his voice. Nodding slightly, she took her bottom lip between her teeth, still deep in thought, fighting the tears that stung the back of her eyes.

"That's a really good question," finally came her reply, choked out in barely a whisper. "That," she paused, speaking a bit louder this time, a bit firmer, as she pointed at him before standing up to take her empty glass over to the sink. "That, is a _really_ good question."

~.~

_See what I did there? We're back to the prologue. Which means, we're getting there! Reviews are much appreciated, please and thank you :)_


	12. Dec 2005

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 11: December 2005**

~.~

Rachel sat in her car, glove-covered hands still gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at their house. When they had first moved in, they had debated and argued about what color to paint it for so long that they both eventually gave in, and it remained the same white with red shutters that it had been when they moved in, though neither had liked it that way. No decision had been made, no argument had been won or lost, it had just remained the same.

What a perfect metaphor for their relationship.

It was just too bad a relationship can't remain stagnant like a house color.

Closing her eyes, Rachel leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, dreading walking inside. He was home already, she knew this. After she had called him earlier in the day telling him they needed to talk tonight, he had texted her when he had left work, earlier than he usually did.

She had avoided coming home. After dropping Emma off at Chandler and Monica's, she had started driving, somehow ending up in The City, and found her way to their old apartment buildings. She had swerved in front of a bus to get it, but had managed to even end up parked in a spot directly outside of Central Perk. And she sat there. She sat there for nearly an hour, thinking about their past, about her past. Thinking about every moment from the past eleven years, ones including and excluding Ross. Every moment from when she stepped inside Central Perk in her wedding dress looking for Monica to the second she got the job in Paris, and then every second between accepting the job and getting off of the plane.

And then there was the past year and a half. It didn't need to be relived in so much detail; it was still fresh in her mind and far too unhappy to revisit.

At the sound of tapping on her window, Rachel literally jumped, looking up at its source.

"I have a feeling 'We need to talk,' isn't much better of a phrase when you're 35 than it is when you're 25," Ross attempted a joke as Rachel opened the door, stepping out into the bitter cold with him with him.

"Ross," she sighed, her breath condensing in the cold air in front of her as she grabbed her purse, pulling the door shut behind her as they headed towards the front door.

"Rach, I'm not oblivious," Ross continued as he followed her inside. "I know you're not happy."

Rachel sighed, closing the door behind them, leaning heavily up against it as she pulled her gloves off in frustration. "I know you know that…."

"I just, I don't know what you want me to do, Rach," Ross shrugged. "You have a beautiful little girl, a man who loves you, a house in the suburbs, a successful career…."

"_Had_ a successful career," Rachel interjected bitterly.

"If you're unhappy, maybe it's no one's fault but your own," Ross leaned against the doorframe in the entryway leading to their living room.

"You don't think I know that?" she stood up slowly, taking a step towards him. "You don't think I don't think about that every single day? You don't think I don't wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gotten off that plane?"

"Rach-"

"No, Ross," she shook her head, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to fight, but knew that everything needed to be said. "I know-I know that you didn't make me stay, but…I resent you anyway," she shrugged helplessly. "I resent you anyway. And I hate myself for that, I do," she added, looking up at him, his pained expression matching hers. "It's just…after I left Barry, and let my Daddy cut me off, and went out on my own, my whole life, my career, everything, started building up. And it built up and built up, and got better and better, and then, Paris! That was what it was building up to! It was a dream I never even realized I had until it happened," she moved into the living room and leaned against the back of the couch, Ross still standing in the doorway. "And then, at the same time, there was everything with you," she continued, still speaking softly. "Everything with you just kind of built up for years," she trailed off, sighing. "And I didn't get to pick both endings. I didn't get to have both end happily. I just…I just didn't get to see how the rest of my story panned out."

Ross stared at the floor for a moment, having known for quite some time that she had been restless, and having a feeling what it was about. It was more than a feeling; he knew for a fact. And it had been eating away at him, and his nights working late had everything to do with avoiding going home and having to see the unhappy, restless look on her face and knowing he was the reason behind it. He had loved her, cared for her, far too long to want to face that look.

"This _is_ how your story panned out, Rach," Ross finally replied softly. "There are no what if's. You don't….get to go back and choose the door on the left instead of the door on the right. Life doesn't work like that."

Rachel bit her bottom lip, nodding. "I know that, I do. And I don't want to regret not going. I don't want to resent you for being the reason behind it. But…"

"You do," Ross finished for her, sighing heavily. "So, what now, Rach? Do I fight to keep you? Fight to make you unhappy? Do I tell you to go? I just, I'm sick of fighting with you, I'm sick of us being unhappy together. And I don't know where there is for us to go from here."

Rachel nodded slowly, wiping a few tears from her cheek. "I don't think there is anywhere for 'us' to go from here…."

Ross squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. "This is it, then? This is how this decade-long, on-again, off-again dance ends?"

Rachel shook her head. "It's not ending, we aren't ending, because…we never have worked all that well together, have we? We've got the chase and the pining down pat, but actually being together? Being a couple?"

Ross nodded slowly. "If we don't have it down after ten years," he forced a laugh, and Rachel smiled slightly in return, Ross walking over to her. Rachel stood up straight as Ross wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug. "What's next?" Ross asked, almost in a whisper, and Rachel shrugged in reply, knowing he was asking what was next for _her_ now, not for them.

"I'll figure it out," came her muffled response against his sweater, and Ross pulled back slowly, nodding at that response.

"I'm sure you will," he smiled, rather impressed with the woman standing in front of him compared with the girl he had had the crush on a decade earlier. He'd spent a good few months wondering if he had never given Rachel enough credit over the years, and another few months, of her being miserable after not going to Paris, knowing he hadn't. However, by the time he realized it, it was too late for him to do anything about it, too late for him to let her go.

Right now, though, he could let her go. No matter how much it hurt him, his pride, he could let her go. Because she was right, they never did quite get the relationship thing down with each other. And after ten plus years, as much as it killed him to be giving up, it may have been time to throw up the white flag on the novel story that was Ross and Rachel.

Rachel nodded, smiling at him, tears still in her eyes. "Yea," she wiped at them, "I will figure it out."

~.~

_I originally had the above done in more of a yelling and fighting format, but decided that Ross and Rachel had enough of that, and they're adults now, and can act like adults. _

_A couple parts left, just to tie up loose ends. Reviews, please and thanks :)_


	13. May 2006

**Mockingbird**

**Chapter 12: May 2006**

~.~

"This may sound weird, since I see you all the time and all," Chandler began, following Rachel up the seemingly endless winding staircase in her new apartment building, "but it's nice being able to go to lunch with you again."

"I know, right?" she grinned back at him momentarily before continuing up one more flight of stairs, opening the door to her floor.

"And Steve Madden? A shoe company?"

"It's like the mothership calling me home," Rachel again grinned, continuing down the hallway to her door. "And, after nearly six months of feeling homeless," she unlocked her door, stepping inside as Chandler followed behind her.

"Wow, it's huge," Chandler nodded in approval as they walked in, Rachel switching on the lights.

"Oh, and that's not even the best part," she grabbed his arm, pulling him over to the wall of windows in the living room, past the two bedroom doors in the hallway. "Look at the view!"

"Definitely worth walking up ten million flights of stairs," Chandler agreed, taking in the New York City skyline.

"And it's, like, literally two minutes from the subway, and the bedrooms are huge, and," Rachel shrugged, looking around, "I don't know how I found this place, but it's amazing!" she continued giving him a tour. "Well, the kitchen's pretty tiny," she stopped walking as they entered it, "which Monica kind of wrinkled her nose at, but," Rachel shrugged.

"It's a good thing you can't cook then?" Chandler teased, and Rachel smacked his arm lightly.

Chandler grinned in return to that. "So, you're happy?"

Rachel nodded. "Yea," she smiled at him, knowing the depth of that question coming from him. "Yes, I am happy," she added, meaning it very much. "Are you? Happy?"

Chandler nodded. It was an uphill climb, but, for the first time in nearly two years, he was happy. Things weren't perfect, but they were better. Far better. And only getting better. "Yea, I am."

"And you and Mon? You guys are good?"

Chandler again nodded, smiling. "Yea. Did, um, did she tell you…?

"Tell me what? Tell me what?" Rachel asked impatiently, digging her hands into her jacket pockets in anticipation.

"Well, uh, now I feel like I shouldn't say anything since she didn't mention it, and she just saw you Monday…."

"Really? You're not gonna tell me?" Rachel asked, arms crossed, not liking being on the outside of whatever this story was.

Chandler laughed; some things never change. "Well," he started, "we've been meeting with this social worker about adopting a foster child, because we decided that we didn't want to go through the whole finding a birth mother and waiting and…all of that. And, anyway, she was showing us these pictures of foster kids in the area waiting for adoption, and…there are these fifteen-month-old twins. Jackson and Leah. And they're wards of the state. And, she's talked to us, and we know it's a whole other ballgame adopting foster kids who have a tough background, no matter how young they are, but, we met them yesterday, and," Chandler shrugged, "they need a home, and they're so little and amazing, and…" he trailed off, shrugging again.

"When do you get them?" Rachel asked, his smile giving away the end of the story.

"Monday," he smiled. "And it's like, a trial foster period, for the kids and for us, but if it all works out..." he again trailed off. "You know, I'm actually pretty sure Monica and I agreed not to tell anyone until then. But," he again shrugged, still smiling, "can't help it."

"Oh my god, that's great," Rachel threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Thanks," Chandler smiled as they pulled back. "And we discussed whether or not we were ready to try this all again, and we came to the same conclusion we did when we first started talking about having kids: that if we waited until everything was one-hundred percent perfect, it would never happen," Chandler paused, looking at the clock on the wall. "We, um, we should probably get going back to work."

"Yea," Rachel nodded in agreement, glancing at the time. "Hey, um, I've been meaning to say this, for quite some time, but…thank you," she said softly, looking him in the eye. "For the last year, for everything, just, thank you. For being there. For being on Team Rachel. Just…thank you," she again repeated.

"You're welcome," Chandler replied softly, having wanted to thank her, as well. "Thank you, too. I know the past couple of years have been hard for us," he motioned between them, "and for all of us, and I-I really don't know what I would have done without you."

Chandler looked down awkwardly at the end of that, scuffing his foot slightly. Rachel smiled at the familiar action.

"We'll call it even," Rachel smiled slightly, nodding.

Chandler nodded in agreement, glad that after everything the past couple of years, and after everything between the two of them for the past year, things had turned out all right after all.

"Yea," he smiled, "we'll call it even."

~.~

_I was originally going to do one more chapter, but decided to leave it at this. My last chapter just didn't feel right as an ending, but this one does. _

_Final reviews, please and thanks :) Thanks for sticking with me through yet another fic—I'm so all over the place writing-wise, jumping from story to story, I'm glad I don't just lose everyone, ha._


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